Step by Step/Issue 6
This is Issue #6 of Step by Step. It is the sixth and final issue of Volume One. Alarm If there was a word to describe what Nolan felt at the moment, he couldn't think of the right one. As the dealer surveyed the remaining guards he tried not to gag. Tried not to gag at the stench of death. He wiped his wet eyes once the odor blasted him the face. He leaned on the wall as the soldiers dragged bodies away before the refugees were put back into the cafeteria. They treated the bodies like garbage after putting their hosts down. Gunshots echoed in the cafeteria when the odorous bodies were led into the stadium. Nolan had seen it all. The crazies hadn't come from outside. They were either inside or the disease was airborne. Nolan caught his breath, but then continued with a long inhale. No one would care what he said. A thug's testimony is nothing, right? Nolan cocked a glance over to a group of customers being escorted into the cafeteria. They caught his vision and gave him sinister glares. He needed Lyle to secure the deal. Too much unfinished business laid under Nolan's shoulders. He shot a look outside to see the vast majority of Indianapolis's finest scurrying past the window frame. They would fix it just like they did when shootings broke out the week before. But they never fixed Nolan. No, no, no. If the soldiers got their heads out their behinds, then Nolan could do his job. Nolan had been running an undercover gig in the refugee shelter. There wouldn't be another import of supplies for two weeks, so for the past week he and Lyle and been dealing with other refugees. Wyatt. He was a good pal and understood Nolan and Lyle's true intentions. To keep the dozens of refugees strong they had to do it. The two had made various connections with the help of Wyatt. Nolan quivered at the thought. They had to get Wyatt's help soon to smuggle in sugary snacks. He watered his lips at the thought of a nice, classic chocolate bar. At the moment, however, that chocolate bar could be the meaning of life and death. There was a friendly refugee, Sanders it was, that needed to keep his sugar levels stable. It was only a meaning of time before his insulin shots ran out. Lyle knew Sanders more than anybody, but Nolan could tell the divorced man deserved to live. Nolan remembered what Lyle told him about Sanders. Divorced. No custody of his girls. Homeless. Luckily, Nolan had the luxury that Sanders ''was void of. Nolan had, at best, a crummy apartment. He tried to keep it clean and formal, but his landlord was quite the beat down. Even before the con forced out him and the other apartment residents to the high school, Nolan hated the fat man's guts. What type of name was Howard anyways? Sure, Nolan would tune up his radio when he heard the speech of Howard Stern. He felt like the two bonded as would two ants on opposite sides of thin paper. For now, he had Lyle. Sure, C.J. was a smart dude. Scratch that, intelligent. Nolan had never met a man of his nature and background with Shakespeare scriptures next to their invaluable laptop. Lyle met with Nolan every day with plans about who they were to supply what to whom since they were both put in the damned camp of Summercreek High School. Nolan sighed, resting his back on the cold wall. He darted his eyes to the latest installment of the death toll. As two soldiers yanked at the corpse's arms and legs, Nolan couldn't help but stare. That face. The only thing left that wasn't mangled by the yellow death of the crazies. “Officer Chevrolet,” Nolan jumped around to see a weary man in uniform scratching the side of his head. “They say he got pinned and there was a little boy...” Frank paused, gluing his bloodshot hazel eyes to Nolan's own. “His mother turned into one of those things too.” Nolan blinked. “Damn...” He craned his eyes over to the bloody corpse of Marvin Chevrolet. The two had never been in many conversations, but Nolan respected the borderline crazy officer that stood out from the rest. “Who else?” Frank took his cap off, admiring the three brackets that laid on his badge. Not bad for just getting dirty shoes rammed into his face. “Officer Pacino's weird partner.” Nolan gulped. He didn't particularly like it when the two heads of security threatened him. All Nolan was doing when he was caught the day before was passing Sanders a bag of sugar and a spare spoon. According to stuck-up Pacino, keeping an ill man's diabetes under control is a no-no. “What about outside? The military?” Frank pouted. Whatever emotion he had before had been flushed away. Frank's face looked like chalk once he spoke. “The streets were bombed. That's what the rumblin' was.” Frank dropped his eyes from Nolan and to the soldiers hauling the remains of Marvin. “A lot of people died, Nolan. There was this huge riot goin' on and then boom... dozens of people went dead.” A light bulb went off in Nolan's mind. Wyatt was out there. An uneasy feeling coursed through his chest. “Was Wyatt there?” Frank looked up with a slow sorrow look forming. Before he could utter a word, which Frank was hesitant to do so, the deafening school siren broke out. "Shit," Nolan groaned. He put both hands in his pocket, cursing. He felt something cold. A bottle. Then he remembered. The soda pop for Frank. He pulled the bottle out. "Catch this!" He passed it to Frank, "Use it wisely!" And the two laughed as Frank unscrewed the bottle cap, knowing that the worst was yet to come. Why not make the most of it? ---- The slingshot rattled in the hands of the brown haired girl. Joseph let go of his working boot and stretched his arms above his head, keeping an eye on the slingshot. If the girl let go, he'd get a nasty bruise. Joseph favored his odds, and looked at the couple. “There's no need to aim that at me.” “Oh really?” The worried boy next to the girl blurted. The boy looked much older than the girl, instead he had short, black hair that was gelled back. “You're one of those rambo guys that came in our school.” Joseph eased his hands. “Can I put my shoe back on?” He asked, “having blisters from protecting this school is really demanding.” “What did you just say?” The boy's voice rose. “Eugene...” The girl said, not sounding too happy. She lowered her slingshot and turned to face her friend. “What do you think you're doing?” Eugene froze. “Telling ''Rambo what he needs to hear.” “Why are you two out of the cafeteria?” Joseph questioned. Eugene scowled. “They took my uncle away. The soldiers in the army trucks.” A memory flashed before Joseph's eyes. He remembered loading the sick into the army trucks when they came with rations for the remaining refugees. He and Carter hadn't liked the idea of shipping away refugees when they had medicine at the high school. No one had in particular liked the idea. Someone with the opposite opinion in government had probably decided where to move the refugees with the sickness. Joseph was disgusted by the memory when the wails of family members came in. The last time people with a disease were separated from the healthy was during the Spanish Flu. Joseph took a moment to put his boot back on. “I can assure you, that wasn't my decision.” Eugene's face lit up with anger. He was about to shout out an uncanny insult when the girl jolted his arm. “I'm sorry, Caroline. Sorry about your dad.” Then, all of a sudden, the sirens from outside rang out. And gunshots followed its path. ---- The stomping feet of Lyle Jackson echoed through the halls. He had squeezed himself through the yelling nurses with their injured in their waiting chairs. Luckily, the guards had been distracted by the ensuing sirens. Long enough for Lyle to spot Brock hauling himself into a storage room. “Cornered.” he muttered. Now, Wyatt was dead. Nothing could change that loss of life. Even though Wyatt had spent most of his time with Lyle and Nolan. Caring for the refugees. Risking his job. Lyle had no clue what he would do once he entered the storage room. Oh, Lyle yearned to meet the arrogant sergeant. Brock had been reckless to send those orders. The orders that caused Lyle to lose an ally. A close friend. Lyle took a deep breath, letting the siren drown out in the hallway. He pressed a hand on the ajar door. The coldness he felt from the metal door was no match for the cold, sickening feel that struck him when he saw Brock. “You okay–” The sergeant moaned, lifting up a hand from the floor where he laid. A set of exhausted groans filled the storage room. Lyle observed the sergeant's bloody leg. A bite-sized chunk of skin was missing. “Are you okay?” Another groan. Lyle shuddered. He watched the sergeant slowly attempt at standing up. In a fruitless go, the man fell flat on his ass. Another groan. “Just gonna stand there or what?” ---- The flayed wrist sent a jolt of pain in Carter's body. He leaned against the cafeteria walls, trying hard not to fall. He watched from the side as gunshots flashed in the hallways. He was tempted to peek out and see, but his aching hand held him back. He swore at it and moved towards the flashing lights anyways. He had seen nurses waltzing into the cafeteria from the main office. He went to ask one of the sprinting nurses, a lady, if she could treat him. He had ignored the thought, knowing that he was probably infected with the sickness. Whatever disease that woman had was what those monsters had outside. No doubt about it. When that news story on The Dispatch was put the air, it transformed the world's view on the so-called flu. Carter recalled the monotone voice of Robert Cleveland, his words entangled, as he announced what most people had nightmares about: the disease was contagious. Carter examined the wounded area. Blisters. Just like he had seen on the mother before she clamped those gory teeth of hers on him. He wrapped his palm over the crimson bite, sliding across the wall to the scene. He saw the mother get shot down. Not too long ago, she had a string of bullets push her down to the bloody floor. Her boy went after that pissy guard, Marvin. Carter regretted his words. All Marvin wanted was information. So did Hector. He had heard him muttering under his breath at times. The mayor, was it? Something about funds and the damned council. Carter had stood in horror and disbelief after the mother left him. But, just in time, he looked up to the stadium to see Hector's angry face as it met with the floor. Five feet below where he once stood. He wished Nolan was the reason why the siren was screaming its head off. Probably not. As Carter leaned out from the front doors, he gave a long stare outside. The soldiers were retreating. Things weren't going as planned. “Hey.” Carter looked to where the noise came from. Nolan. “Oh, hey.” Carter continued to clasp his wrist, and moved towards him. “You look beat up, dude.” Nolan scanned the roughed up soldier. His eyes dropped to what Carter was holding. “You didn't get that checked out?” Carter shook his head. “Anyone with medical skills is preoccupied, or say they say.” “But, dude, that's likely to get infected. You need to get it checked out either way.” Nolan pointed to the main office. “I don't care if they say no, I'm gettin' you some help.” Carter went for the passageway. He could use a band-aid. Once he made it to the edge of the door, he stopped mid-step. As the fury of gunfire lit up the school, he turned to face Nolan. “What about the soldiers shooting?” Nolan chuckled and turned to look at Officer Frank who was resting on a cot. “Ain't no bullet fast enough.” Nolan threw himself past the soldier and dodged the swift bullets. Carter watched as the brave man slid past like he was laced with butter. Carter jumped in suit. He kept his palm connected with the bite wound. He tried to not move his aching wrist too much. The disturbing pain attempted to hold Carter back again. Not this time. No. Not a chance. Nolan was the first to the door. Locked. He beat a fist on the metal, shouting at the guard on the other side. “Let us in!” He punched the glass twice before the gunfire downed down. For a moment. Then, grotesque moaning appeared from outside. The siren was still ringing to Ronald Cleveland's displeasure. Frightened guards from the outside of the school rushed in with refugees. Nolan's eyes doubled in size when he traced a scream to a sergeant being tackled by crazies. They ripped away at his neck. And soon, he was a gurgling snack. He kicked the main office door again. “You let us in right god damn now!” Carter caught up to Nolan's side and joined in the kicking. It wasn't long before the metal door started creaking and the guard inside let them slip in. He immediately closed and bolted shut the door behind them. “You're lucky.” He said. Nolan turned to say something, but remembered about Carter. He saw that most of the medical staff had been posted to various stations. None of them looked up when Nolan asked for help. “Anyone?” A loud laugh came from behind a desk. The owner, a woman, wore thick spectacles and had her hair tied up into a black bun. She walked forward from the desk and placed a hand on Carter's shoulder. “You the hurt one?” Carter nodded. “One of those things scratched my hand.” Her chuckling then went to a dead stop. She pried Carter's hands apart and looked down at the blister-blossoming injury. Her jaw dropped. “I'm the s-school nurse. You two, follow me.” She led the two into her nurse office. Once they all got in, she locked the door. “My name is Susie Brown,” Susie said before pulling up a chair stool for Carter. She grabbed a stethoscope and placed the diaphragm on Carter's chest. “And you need my help.” The three waited as she heard for any detectable heartbeats. “Reports saying that if your terminal with this thing, you're heart goes irregular. Not sure what it means, though, what any of this means.” “Reporters ain't no shit.” Nolan said. "And CNN can very well suck it." “Not those fools, hon.” She set down the stethoscope on her table. “The scientists.” Carter winced once she finished her examination. “Am I okay?” Susie put on a weak smile. She reached for her shelves and fished through various pill bottles. “Nolan, fetch me water from that sink.” She tossed him a plastic cup and sat back down in her chair next to Carter. “I'm going to give you this. Antibiotics. It should slow down any fever.” Nolan beckoned to Carter the tap water. “Slow it down?” “Well, yes.” Susie Brown reeled out two capsules and placed them into the Carter's firm grip. She looked like she had just ran for miles and miles. Susie let go from her chest a sigh. “Slow it down until it isn't a nuisance.” Issues Category:Step by Step Category:Category:Step by Step Issues Category:Issues